


Baked goods

by sometimes_i_english



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Post War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimes_i_english/pseuds/sometimes_i_english
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny leaves Harry and then he meets Draco, who owns a bakery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baked goods

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at he Potter fandom in months, haven't done any Drarry since a while back. I had so many plans for this one but it somehow ended and refused to move forward?

It was an odd feeling, no wait, that…that wasn’t it. It was more of that oddly familiarity of something known but somehow forgotten.

He felt…lost.

“Everything alright?” a man’s voice brought Harry out of his thoughts, looking around he realized he’d walked inside a small bakery, how had he gotten there? His brows furrowed as he tried to rethink his steps, in vain since his mind had been somewhere entirely different. His senses tingled as he took in the air, scented in baked bread, the sweetness of something different to sugar and the comforting bitterness of coffee…and that something spicy that he couldn’t really connect to food, more like a memory.

“Hey, Potter” the man said again “are you alright?”

Potter

How did the man know his name? He was, after all, in muggle London; where he wasn’t a celebrity or anyone particularly known. His head snapped in the direction of the voice, green eyes settling on the pale complexion and pointed features of his school-years’ rival. Draco Malfoy stared back, moulted steal fixed back on him.

It took him a moment to realize the man’s brows were knitted together in worry.

“Malfoy” he exclaimed in surprise.

“Daydreaming Potter?” the man chuckled lowly

“What are you doing here?” he asked, a little harsher than the situation needed, but his day had been a shitty one and he’d never been one of those people who can compartmentalize and separate things that don’t exactly go together.

Malfoy’s eyebrows rose high in a disbelieving expression that held both amusement and curiosity. “Whatever do you mean by that” he shot

“This is muggle London” Harry explained with the patience of someone pointing out the obvious for at least the tenth time.

“Oh, that” Mafloy chuckled again, but somehow, it was different than before, humourless and sardonic “remember my trial Potter?” he challenged “five years ago? After the war? You were there” he added in that same cynical humourless humour “What was that they said? Oh yeah, due to Mr. Potter’s helpful testament on your name, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, you will not be sentenced to a lifetime in the wizard prison known as Azkaban. But will endure an endless exile from the worldwide wizarding community, your wand will not be returned to you and, from this day onward, you must conduct yourself in the life of a muggle. Or something along those lines” he smiled.

Harry felt a twinge of remorse at the hurt in the other man’s eyes, but he brushed it off as the memory of the war washed him over. “Umm yeah” he said “sorry” and it surprised even him how honest it felt.

Malfoy snorted and Harry felt the usual annoyance he’d felt whenever they’d been next to each other in Hogwarts, or anywhere really. “What?” he asked in more of an attack than a defence.

“Nothing” the blonde shrugged “it’s just you don’t mean it, so don’t say it”

“How could you possibly know if I meant it or not?” if he wasn’t offended before, he was then, nobody would question Harry Potter’s morals. Well, nobody who didn’t know him well enough.

“I don’t want your pity, Potter” Malfoy spat

And it was so easy, so easy to fall into the schoolboy rivalry, into the comfortable banter of someone that didn’t put him on a pedestal; that any thoughts on why he was feeling the way he was when he’d found himself in that small bakery, left Harry’s mind and didn’t return until he sat on his own bed, inside the empty building of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

His bedroom hadn’t felt so big in years.

There was just so much space everywhere. Inside the nooks where she’d leave the most random things scattered, in the closet he didn’t have enough clothes to fill but she’d overflow nevertheless, in the silent air where her laugh would somehow be a remedy to the scars he couldn’t heal and the armour he couldn’t shed.

“I’m sorry Harry. It’s just not working, I-we’re different than before and you’re different” she’d even had the audacity to cry “I found someone else”

She’d walked out, her things already packed and sent, leaving him in the extension of a cavernous Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

It wasn’t the heartbreak, no, he’d known what had bound them together hadn’t been love. It was more the throbbing deception and betrayal that hurt so deep and burnt endless. Harry didn’t feel angry, no, he was a 22 years old adult who’d lived more than he should have. No, he was better than anger.

But he felt lost.

Because in the spam of his lifetime he’d never wanted to spend the rest of it alone, but also, in the spam of that lifetime he’d never actually imagined who to spend it with; anyone but Ginny, who was only thrusted upon him by the mere obligation he felt towards the Weasleys and the expectations he was to fulfil.

It hadn’t been fair for her, no, he was man enough to admit that; but it also hadn’t been fair for him. They’d been just kids, kids who’d lived and fought for their world and a world that didn’t know them, but kids nonetheless.

Ginny had been his friend and he had been hers, but that was it, that was the extent of their love. The star-awed feeling Ginny had when first meeting “The boy who lived” left her soon after their shared lives started.

“Don’t you love me?” Harry had asked

“No, Harry” she’d answered almost gently “I loved the idea of me being in love with you, and of you being in love with me; no Harry, I do love you, but I’m not in love with you. Not anymore”

And Harry...Harry hadn’t been able to bring himself to say those three little words and make her reconsider, and maybe stop. No, he wouldn’t lie to her like that, it’d be much too cruel.

So she left and he let her.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place hadn’t felt so gloom since the days of his seventh year at Hogwarts.

His fireplace burst on, emerald flames licking the brick frame without warming anything. “Harry” of course it had to be Hermione “Harry, answer me!” she called when he didn’t acknowledge her “I can see you!” she called back; still he made no intent on talking or moving.

“Harry, come on” a hand was placed gently on his shoulder “come on, I’ll make tea” she offered.

“It’s alright Hermione” he smiled softly “it’s alright”

“How can it be alright?” she frowned “you wouldn’t even move when I called you”

“I’m just thinking” he said easily “but it really is alright, Ginny deserves someone who can really love her, someone with less scars” his grin became broader, stretching his lips but never touching his eyes.

“Aww Harry” Hermione sat next to him, wrapping her arms around the still-too-thin frame “Harry, we all have scars; everybody, even the ones who weren’t there. And it’s ok, they’re but the reminder that we haven’t just sat and watch, that we’ve actually stood for something, fought for something, lived for something. We’re not porcelain dolls, Harry. We’re not meant to be unscratched”

“Sometimes I think you’re too smart for everyone’s good” he huffed in mock-annoyance, but she still kissed his cheek and went back when he smiled a bit more genuinely.

Harry didn’t exactly know why the next day he found himself there again. Opening the door and making the little bell ring, walking to a small table at the back and just sitting there without further glance to the cakes and desserts on display.

A cup of coffee was placed on the table after the first fifteen minutes of just sitting there, Harry noticed the pale hand and the thin wrists, but his brain didn’t connect anything until he looked up to find the amused face of Draco Malfoy.

Again.

“Do you make a point of visiting bakeries and just sitting in them for an indefinite amount of time Potter?” Draco smirked

“Are you stalking me?” Harry retorted making Draco snort and laugh hard, which wasn’t the intended purpose of it.

“Seriously Potter?” he said between huffed laughs “if anything, you’d be the one stalking me”

“I own this place!” he exclaimed, motioning around, at Harry’s confused expression.

Looking around it would be, easy? Yeah, easy to imagine the after-war Malfoy decorating it all; with the big windows letting in so much light, the soft lilacs and subdued blues, and eventually, that small spec of silver. Somewhere around reminded him of the blonde’s eyes.

“Oh” said Harry “it’s, ahem, it’s nice”

“Thank you, Potter” Malfoy smiled, and for the first time it didn’t feel mocking or protective, it felt genuine; as if the man was proud of what he had there and how it was his “Only opened last year, but it’s been going great” he beamed.

And Harry was sure that if that damn bell over the door hadn’t made its sound at that precise moment, then Malfoy would’ve told him about that small bakery in the middle of muggle London and how it had gone to be. He didn’t really have time to feel surprised at how much he actually wanted to know.

The annoyed way that not knowing left him was easily attributed to his curious nature and nothing else.

So Harry ended up drinking his coffee and leaving without paying when Malfoy shooed him while saying “it’s on the house” (in hopes of attracting good karma and more customers)

When he finds himself sitting on the same table day in and day out, and later every day, it’s only because the coffee’s good and after trying the cakes and desserts they also prove to be wondrous creations set to make him fat.

“Are you sure you don’t use magic in these?” he teases Malfoy between a mouthful of strawberry shortcake “because I don’t really believe you”

“Oh no, not magic” the blonde shots back “just some very special potion” he mock whispers as his eyes look around suspiciously; and it’s so comical and surreal, the mere idea of Harry and Draco actually teasing each other without venom, so incredibly ridiculous that Harry can’t help but burst out laughing.

The sound and stretch of lips feeling foreign in his skin for a moment, and that moment’s enough to remind him of the empty house waiting for him at the end of every day.

“Don’t you ever work Potter?” Malfoy asked once

“My, and here I thought you actually liked having a regular” he said sighing dramatically “guess it can’t be helped, if I’m no longer wanted I’ll find a new bakery. Good bye!” he flourished in a remarkable impression of their 2nd year DADA teacher.

“Wait” Malfoy giggled as he circled Harry’s waist with his fingers “no, but seriously Potter; don’t you ever work?”

Harry sighed heavily and sat back. “I can’t have a job” he mumbled with his eyes set on the half downed cup of tea.

“Sorry, what?”

“I can’t have a job” he repeated louder “I can’t have a job” he whispered, more a reminder to himself than the half-confession he hadn’t known he wanted to relieve.

And Harry couldn’t, for all he was worth, fathom why he’d told that to Malfoy. The witty response his brain had manufactured still tingled the tip of the tongue that never pronounced it. Harry cleared his throat at the silence that threatened to swallow them whole.

“It’s a joke, Malfoy” he grinned, big and happy and fake, somehow he knew that Malfoy noticed but somehow he was grateful that the other man didn’t mention it “I have more than enough in my Gringots vault to live forever without working a day in my life” he sat nonchalantly, as nonchalantly as the sourness in his being would allow him.

Steely eyes focused on his face making him squirm and his skin prickled with tightness, for a moment Harry wondered why it had suddenly become so hard to breathe.

“Well” Malfoy said, dragging out the e, “how gracious of you to grant us, poor daily workers, with your presence. Oh great sir” he quirked with a small, mocking bow.

His trademark smirk planted on his lips.

So Harry wondered when, exactly, he’d started to notice things like how pale Malfoy’s skin was; or how elegant his neck looked or how pink his lips were; or maybe how long his fingers seemed and how warm they were every time they brushed against his own; the wide shoulders and marked biceps being a baker would give him.

It was unnerving.

The way he’d find himself in that bakery, on the same table, with the same cup and the same lost feeling every single day. For weeks, for a month and for two.

Except he talked to Malfoy more, and Malfoy talked to him. The usual banter lacked its venom, replacing it by a sort of mutual non-rivalry almost making a borderline on friendship. What defined a friendship anyways? Was it talking with each other every day? Or the fact that Malfoy had become a more solid presence than Ron or Hermione after Ginny left? Or was it Malfoy knowing the exact way in which Harry drank his coffee? (And Harry somehow noticing the way Malfoy took his)

“Isn’t it tiring?” he asked one day, Malfoy looked up from the papers in front of him. And oh, Harry had forgotten the man used glasses, which was unfair, really; the attractive prick wearing glasses was unfair.

“What’s tiring?” Malfoy questioned back

“You know” Harry mussed “this, keeping this yourself?” he said motioning around with his arms

Malfoy chuckled lowly. “Stop flailing Potter, you’ll drop your coffee” he pointed “ummm, yeah I guess sometimes it can get tiring; but I enjoy being on my own and working by myself; plus the store is small and I don’t really need any more help. And you’ve met Cher, she helps me a lot by coming and cleaning thrice a week”

“Cher? That Uni student with the pink hair?” Harry remembered her, of course he did, but somehow he still felt the need to ask.

“Yeah, her” Malfoy grinned “we’re about the same age, you know?” he said, his grin morphing into a smirk.

And that was that, because Harry could feel heat pooling in his cheeks and the bottom of his stomach, annoyance uncurling itself to travel through his senses. “Really Malfoy?” he asked in the closest imitation to nonchalance he could muster “shagging employees and such?”

“A man has got to do what a man needs to do” Malfoy winked.

Harry chocked on the sip of coffee that was midway down his throat, oddly burning down the path to his chest it hadn’t taken.

“Um, yeah, I just remembered something and I need to go” he mumbled “see you”

The bell above the door chimed before Malfoy had time to either acknowledge or answer Harry. 

And then Harry didn’t find himself in that same bakery, on the same table or with the same coffee for days and days until a full week had passed and he was sat on his bed thinking again. Trying to figure out that strange burning sensation, the nagging pull at his chest and stomach that made him both hungry and on the verge of throwing up; maybe even curse something.

He was a Gryffindor after all, fire and uncontrollable emotion had always been part of him.

“Hermione” he called through the green flames “Hermione, could you come over for a moment please?”

“Uh, sure” the witch said “Just let me go put these books away”

“What about me?!” Ron yelled from the background “Can I come over too?!”

Harry winced at the thought of his best friend hearing on; Ronald Weasley, sworn enemy of the Malfoy household (and who didn’t know about Harry’s new coffee spot) listening on Harry telling Hermione about Malfoy and his bakery and his stupid coffee and the weird burning sensation.

“Umm, I’d rather it be just Hermione” he said, earning a surprised (and maybe hurt) gasp followed by the face of his best friend in his fireplace.

“What do you mean just Hermione?” he asked “Are you doing something illegal the Auror department can’t find out?” Rons eyes narrowed as his lips mouthed the sentence in mocking accusation

“Yes, Ron, you’ve found me” Harry deadpanned “I’ve been ransacking Gringots’ vaults and selling dark objects in Norway”

Ron gasped dramatically “That’s why you don’t look for a job anymore?” he whispered before they both broke out on fits of laughter, and it was ok, with Ron it was ok to joke about the reason Harry couldn’t have a job at the age of 22.

“Alright Harry” Ron finally said “Hermione will be there in a second, just” he paused and took a sigh “you’re my best friend, and you can tell me whatever is bothering you” his eyes were steady, green in the light of the fire instead of their natural blue, but with the same determination from whenever he was set on something serious.

“I know” Harry grinned “Just let me talk with Hermione first. I’ll make it up to you”

Ron’s grin grew until it almost split his face “Chocolate frogs and pints?”

“Chocolate frogs and pints” Harry agreed; it was sort of nostalgic and at the same time reassuring, that after so many years, Ron Weasley could still get happy about food and candies and, from a couple of years back, beer.

“Move over Ron” Hermione’s bushy hair preceded her as she climbed out the fireplace, shaking ashes from her clothes, as soon as she was out, the fire died out leaving the both of them alone in the house.

“Well?” She asked, eyebrows raised and knotted in the middle.

“Um, let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll make tea” Harry sighed, he started down the hall and down the flights of stairs, both of them in silence until they reached the kitchen.

Harry’s palms were sweating while he retrieved the mugs and boiled water, finding something soothing in the muggle way of doing things.

“Is everything alright?” Hermione asked when a steaming mug was placed in front of her.

“Ummm, maybe” Harry sighed the words into the steam billowing up

“Maybe?” she repeated

“The day Ginny left me” he blurted out just to stop, not because it was hard to say but because of how comfortably the words had slid out of his lips; a frown formed on his forehead and he almost forgot to keep talking but for Hermione clearing her throat and pulling him back “Ah, yes, that day I went for a walk and somehow ended up in this small bakery”

Hermione didn’t say anything; she just kept on sipping her tea, her eyes a question (or an encouragement?) fixed on him.

It was almost reassuring how little their positions had changed over the years; and Harry, Harry was sure he’d never stop going to Hermione for advice. Hermione, who was a sister to him and had fought a battle that wasn’t hers but his; Hermione with her brilliant mind and her massive heart.

“Harry?” she smiled softly

“Oh, yeah, sorry” Harry ruffled his hair and set his glasses straight “yeah, the day Ginny left, er, somehow I walked into this bakery…” he averted his eyes and yet could already feel Hermione’s own narrowing and being directed at him.

“Yes, this bakery and you really wouldn’t believe who own it” he kept a valiant effort of going forward in the most naturally-unatural way possible

“Who?” she asked placing her mug back on the table

“This bloke from school” he muttered

“Sorry? Didn’t quite catch that”

“Draco Malfoy” he rushed out, he could feel his blood rushing to his cheeks and the points of his ears becoming hot.

“Malfoy?” Hermione asked, and she seemed…surprised. Just surprised.

“Yeah”

“Yeah, and?”

Fuck women and their intuition. “I’ve been going to have coffee with him sometimes after that” Hermione didn’t really need to know he’d been there every single day.

“Malfoy?” and then she was frowning “Malfoy, the prick whose face I punched in third year?”

Harry couldn’t help the chuckle the memory brought up “He’s changed” he said, a small smile on his face; like he couldn’t help it, like just thinking about the blonde prat forced his facial muscles to just move and smile.

“Oh”

That was a loaded expression.

“Oh what?” he asked, his turn to narrow his eyes

“Nothing, really” she tried to shrug nonchalantly, failing in the process of hiding the smug and knowing grin on her face “Oh crap! Harry, I’d love to hear more of this new Draco of yours but I really have to run now” she got up, kissed his temple and was already out the fireplace before Harry could clarify that Draco wasn’t his.

No matter how pleased and warm that thought made him feel.

Ooh no

No

No

He knew this feeling, no, not really. He didn’t exactly know the feeling, but he had fantasized about it, a wishful desire of someone being able to warm hi inside without even meaning to…it was a fucked up feeling.

No.

Harry didn’t want that, not with Malfoy anyway.

Fuck.

Fuck

Fuck

Not with Malfoy and Cher and the lecherous way he’d say how being a young boss with a young employee had its perks, not with the sly smirks and the easy banter and the endless possibilities of it being everything they both probably needed and wanted and yet the equally infinite space in which they could be destructive for each other and just crash and crash to finally burn and leave them worse than it found them.

It was a terrifying feeling.

And he was scared

But somehow and somewhere he was also not and just excited and curious and full of the stupid bravery that had led him to his almost death way too many times.

The stupid bravery that had helped him destroy Voldemort and construct a world without him.

And Harry laughed.

Sitting down in the middle of his kitchen, with a mug filled of cold tea in his hands and the emptiness that wasn’t nearly as empty anymore; at least the remaining echo of his heartbreak wasn’t even a whisper then, nook and cranes and corners suddenly filled with the foreign hope of the unknown.

There Harry laughed.

And it dawned on him that of course Hermione had understood.

With a single fucking look at him talking about Draco and she had known.

Harry was sure he wasn’t in love with Draco, no, he wasn’t quite ready for that yet; but there was something there, an opening to a path he was curious to explore.

And he needed to do it.

Harry stood up suddenly, left the mug on the table and left Grimmauld Place. His feet felt both weightless and dragged, and his head was on the clouds.

He turned and hurried and almost gave in an aparated right on the spot. But he didn’t, because he knew he needed the air and the cooled crap of London’s weather to clear his thoughts and calm the slow jealousy that kept curling and uncurling in his stomach.

It was a bit odd, returning after a week of not appearing there. Although really, it wasn’t as if he and Draco had some sort of agreement of meeting every day; he didn’t even know if Draco actually enjoyed having him there for fuck’s sake. For all he knew Draco might as well be nice to him for being his most loyal customer. (Though Harry ended up not paying half of his bills there)

There it was, the same door and the same chime of bell when he opened it.

What wasn’t there was the smile Draco would direct his way whenever he got there, instead a blonde man with a closed up expression and harsh eyes looked at him. Draco looked at him and all air around him froze.

And suddenly Harry was back into the Dursley’s, feeling unwanted and surplus.

It stung.

To have felt so safe and comfortable, to have been there for someone else.

And to have it just…not there anymore.

“Are you coming in or not?” Draco snapped, his voiced clipped and his eyes not meeting Harry

“Can I?” Harry asked

“You’re blocking the entrance” the blonde pointed out

Harry blushed and quickly ducked out of the way and onto his usual table. He idly wondered if someone else had sat on it during that week, just to slap himself awake and notice that the table wasn’t his or reserved for his personal use, no matter how much he knew the owner of the place.

It was a bit disappointing.

Mainly because he associated that small hole in the space of his life to Draco and the increasingly greater meaning those afternoons kept having, the ridiculous expanse Draco and that ridiculous bakery had taken in the stretch of his life.

What the fuck was anything anymore?

A cup of coffee was set in front of him; the same smell and the same cup and the same amount of sugar, hanging from the same pale hand and long fingers.

Except the face of the man attached to the arm wasn’t smiling or seemed happy at all.

Yet Harry couldn’t exactly pinpoint anger in the man’s grey eyes, it was something more, more complicated than mundane anger.

It was hurt.

Draco was hurt.

“Oh”

“What Potter? You don’t want it?” Draco said with narrowed eyes, and he seemed angry then, but at least he was looking at Harry.

Harry just smiled his way, the most sincere smile he could muster and the happiest in the whole of that week. “No, I want it. Thanks”

Then it was Draco’s turn to blush, furiously; colouring his whole face red.

“You’re a twat” he finally said

“Watch it Malfoy, I’m a paying customer”

“A paying customer who is also my friend and suddenly decided to fucking disappear into the centre of the Earth for a whole week without a fucking word or signal of still being alive or safe or something” Draco’s breath was harsh, shallow and fast; like he’s run to say all that, like his body got tired from the effort of putting so much into words.

“Sorry” Harry whispered “I just-I needed to take care of some matters”

“With the kind of things we’ve seen Potter…” his voice was low and dangerous, maybe a threat; but what a lovely threat, to be menaced into his own safety by the man he’s sporting a major crush on.

Maybe a little unhealthy, but who’s seeing anyways?

“Hey” he grinned “I’m Harry Potter, I’m the boy who lived” he chuckled and, weirdly, it sounded more bitter and resigned than the joke he’d intended

Draco just sighed heavily “and did you? Take care of your matters?”

“Yeah, it’s…it’s a work in process”

“Mmmm” Draco sat across Harry and levelled him with a look “You know Harry, you’re my…friend, yes?”

Harry nodded

“And I’m yours, right?” he asked, his eyebrows high in his forehead and his hands creating knots between his fingers, yet he didn’t wait for an answer “You should feel…no…er…you should know that this mutual friendship entitles you to tell me about your problems and then entitles me to try to help you with them” he finished with a grin, a small blush had appeared high on his cheeks and it really shouldn’t be as adorable as it was on a 22 year old man.

Harry reached for the pale hands threatening to break each other with the strength they pulled, noticing how they trembled slightly and squeezed in hopes of assurance. It was beyond nice, beyond anything Harry would’ve hoped of the Malfoy he knew in school, and even a little more than what he’d expect from the Draco he’d managed to encounter.

“Tell me about your life as a muggle” he asked

“I’ve already told you about it” Draco murmured back, his eyebrows in a small frown or amusement

Harry just smiled and kept quiet, eventually Draco got up to fetch a cup of tea, sat back and began to talk.

His voice was soothing, the way it flickered from excitement to a calm whisper; how its tone evolved from the bitter beginning to the resigned acceptance and the angry interlude to finally clash into the crescendo of finding easiness and peaceful on the almost anonymous status being a “muggle” proffered to him.

“It was tough at the beginning” he smiled softly “I had enough money to survive but I was so angry and so upset and it was frustrating to see all these muggles being able to go by and do all these things I yet had to understand and learn”

Both the coffee and tea had gone cold and rain began to splatter against the windows, Harry noticed in surprise how dark the sky had gotten just to realize it was bordering 8 at night and there was no one else but them inside.

“Oh” Draco looked startled as he followed Harry’s eye line “Merlin! It’s gotten quite late” he directed a look at Harry and then at the rain that steadily poured with more force, a frantic cry in the grey streets of London “Are you hungry Harry?”

“Am I-“ Harry was baffled but for a second “yes, I actually am” he smiled”

“Good” the blonde answered “me too”

From there it was a blur of movement and rushing, running down streets and narrow lanes, trying and failing to avoid the rain. Such a cliché and yet such an enjoyable one, to run giddy with the one responsible for the burst of light at the end of one tunnel.

Harry chuckled to himself at the realization that he was acting like the teen he never had the chance to be. But who cared, yeah, who gave a fuck; he was enjoying it.

“Ok” Draco stopped in front of a more than decent looking building

“This is where you live?” Harry deadpanned

“Have a problem with it? Potter?”

“Oh, so we’re back to Potter now?” he raised an eyebrow to the smirking Draco “and no, it looks…decent enough. You’re having the famous Harry Potter as your guest after all” he added a wink that only served to make Draco laugh until he was clutching his stomach and Harry was the one blushing furiously and feeling embarrassed.

There was an entryway.

Draco lived in a loft with an entryway.

“How much money do you actually have?”

“Just…some” he shrugged

Like that day in the bakery, looking around, Harry could just imagine Draco living there. There were splotches of life everywhere, from the framed photos on the walls and the ashes litting the fireplace to the books strewn across the living room. Harry hoped a little too much to be able to see the bedroom one day.

Harry heard Draco mutter something before he found himself with two strong arms winding around his waist and the press of a pair of lips on his.

“Shit! Sorry!” Draco moved away, his eyes wide and Harry had but a moment to notice the panic in them before the blonde closed them off to not let him in.

So Harry did the only reasonable thing anyone would do…he flung himself on Draco, winding his hands on the platinum hair and kissing him with too much force; making them stumble and thank Merlin for the couch that managed to catch them.

“Not sorry” he mumbled against a smile, right before any word forming ability his mouth would’ve had flung away and a hungry kiss sealed his lips shut.

It’d be nothing but an utter lie to say that Harry was an experienced kisser, after Cho and Ginny there really had been no one else. Nobody else. Harry Potter had kissed the incredible amount of two people in his life before Draco Malfoy.

And Draco…fuck…Draco could kiss, playing with his tongue, lapping inside Harry’s mouth and nipping at his bottom lip, biting his tongue and pressing his whole body against Harry’s. 

It was dizzying.

It was dizzying and amazing and everything a first kiss should be. Harry could swear he heard fireworks and bells in the distance.

Maybe he was exaggerating.

But it was the best bloody kiss he’d ever received.

Draco kissed him with strength while his hands held him with so much care, like he was something precious, something breakable.

“I won’t break” he panted

Draco just chuckled

“We’re wearing too many clothes” he whispered, his voice hoarse and his breath short.

“That can be fixed”

It took no time to get to that bedroom Harry wanted to see and if he wasn’t already too engrossed in the hand Draco has entwined with his he’d probably try to memorize the path and its surroundings. A little bit of Draco, of the life he’s had in muggle London, of the way he had grown to be.

“That’s a big bed for just one person” Harry pointed out

Draco made a noncommittal noise with his throat, his arms already finding Harry’s waist and his lips pressing insistently to the back of his neck “sometimes I need to move…when I can’t sleep”

“Oh”

“We’ll talk about that later” Draco smiled, a soft play of his mouth with light dancing in his eyes

“Yeah” Harry smiled “we will talk about it later”

They tugged at each other’s clothes and discarded them as offensive while they half walked-half stumbled to the bed; when Harry could finally see Draco’s naked body, his mouth couldn’t decide between going dry or straight out drooling. The soft, pale skin and toned muscle made him feel self-conscious; with the way he was too skinny and too short and hadn’t done anything to bulk up or put on some muscle.

“Hey” Draco reached for him, moving the arm he’d unconsciously placed between his body and Draco “I want to see you” the man said, placing kisses over his torso, nudging his nipples and tickling his sides; burning a path where his fingertips went.

The way Draco touched him, Harry would have sworn he was something beautiful.

Something admirable.

Fact was he wasn’t.

“You…you should let me make love to you” Draco murmured where his lips had found Harry’s hip bone

Harry snorted “make love? Sure, do as you please” he sighed, his hands already balled on the bed sheets and a full body blush on him.

“You shouldn’t give yourself away so easily” Draco smirked

And Harry had a retort, and a good one, and he would’ve given Draco a piece of it if the blonde hadn’t decided to duck and swallow Harry’s penis whole in his mouth.

Blowjobs were glorious things.

Blowjobs had always been glorious things, but Draco…damn it, Draco made them seem like an art. With his sinful tongue and the heat of his mouth and the way drool mixed with pre-come kept drivelling down his chin; Harry was undecided on whether he’d fallen into the hands of an angel or the trap of a demon.

“Mmmmm I’m no angel, Harry”

Yeah, sex, good sex, could do that to anyone.

“Shut…ugh…shut u-up Malfoy”

He was so out of breath, it was ridiculous; how much lust and desire could someone feel before actually combusting?

And Harry did, he grunted and pulled Draco’s hair and mumbled a warning and yet Draco didn’t move and Harry found himself spilling into his…partner? Friend? His…his Draco’s throat.

There was a smirk securely planted on the blonde’s face as he sat, licking his left hand fingers while his right stroked Harry’s over-sensitized cock in a lazy movement.

“Wait” he asked “wait, you’ll kill me”

“That would really be counterproductive” Draco kissed him, soft and slow, with their tongues grazing softly and his hands roaming over Harry’s body.

“What about Cher?” Harry frowned, and oh shit, he’d been too distracted to actually think and ponder and over-think again every other factor and variable in the unlikely equation that was him and Draco.

“Cher?” Draco frowned even deeper than him “What has her to do with any of this?”

And then Harry was confused.

“But I thought you said that you two…” his voice became smaller and smaller as he took into the tiny laughter shakes rattling the other man’s shoulders. “Well, fuck you too” he muttered in embarrassment.

“No…no, wait Harry” Draco grinned “you’re quite endearing for a world saviour, did you know that?”

“Wha-“

“Plus, I’m as gay as can be. Really, I like dick so much I’d probably tattoo a penis on me if it wasn’t distasteful as fuck”

Harry stifled a laugh “Oh, talking about penises, yours is still hard and unattended”

“Yeah” Draco sighed “whatever will we do with that” he smirked

Harry understood what being pounced meant, what with the way Draco threw himself on top of him; kissing and licking every patch of skin he could find. He could feel himself getting hard again, the solid weight of Draco’s own penis dragging over his thighs and stomach as the blonde moved along his body.

It was intoxicating.

The feel of sweated skin, fingertips hot as flame, the sound of flesh against flesh and those excruciatingly incendiary moans and sighs that Harry could not distinguish a source for.

A single digit prodded his asshole and he squirmed in discomfort at the foreign intrusion. It was…strange, how his body clenched and ached for more; instead of rejecting whatever it was Draco was doing, his body opened up to take more, to demand more.

“My, Harry” Draco chuckled “Nobody would believe this was your first time”

“Nnnng…” his brain had died, Draco Malfoy had killed his brain and for Merlin that Harry was enjoying it.

Goosebumps littered his skin as the next finger pressed inside and Draco began to scissor him open.

“FUCK! What are you doing?” he moaned, looking down to find a blonde head dipping between his spread legs and the feel of a tongue jabbing and fucking him between the two fingers that were already driving mad.

“Now you know what rimming is” Draco smirked

An explosion.

There was nothing else to call it, a fucking explosion of blinding white behind his eyelids when Draco finally pushed inside him, robbing his lungs from the capacity to breath and any possibility of doing anything else but fell.

“Tell me if it’s too much and you need to stop” Draco’s voice sounded wrecked, hoarse and deep with desire.

Harry could only nod.

Every molecule of his body seemed to be in sync with Draco; with the way his hard dick dragged out only to be rushed inside again, the small burn the friction caused and the bruises his fingers were most certainly leaving.

The air was too hot and his skin felt on fire, his eyes wouldn’t open up and his throat wouldn’t stop with the embarrassingly needy moans he kept exhaling. Everything felt like too much, yet everything felt like he needed it, like something that could bring him back and maybe stitch the patch of him that had lost its thread and keep it there.

Harry passed out the second time he came.

The sun had already set and the moon was the one painting blue hues along the bed and the floor and the man that sat beside him.

“Morning” Draco smirked

“Mmmmm” Harry frowned, he’d get that smirk out of those stupidly soft lips one day.

He scooted closer and threw and arm around Draco’s waist.

A kiss was placed on his forehead before sleep claimed him once more.


End file.
